


It's Complicated

by KillerLaurel



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, The Avengers (2012), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: AU, Crack, Crossover, F/M, Fury is always angry, It's insane, M/M, boarding house, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerLaurel/pseuds/KillerLaurel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a legend. Of a boarding house. In which in-fucking-sane things occurred daily much to the dismay of the landlord, Fury.<br/>Basically: it's crack. With smiting and explosions and gayness.<br/>WORK ABANDONED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“CASTIEL!! HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES HAVE I SAID IT? NO FUCKING SMITING IN THE BUILDING!!” Fury shouted at the top of his lungs as the violent banging noises from above were accompanied by the smell of burning flesh. “Ignore them,” Fury snorted to the two prospective boarders in front of him. They looked terrified. Of course they wouldn’t actually rent. The Normal People never did. Fury got stuck with the freaks.  
Fury ran the boarding house. He had for years. He was the only one able to handle the boarders. There was Dean and Castiel Winchester in room 666, Tony Stark and Clint Barton in 007, Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr in 960, some freak who called himself “The Doctor” and his lady River Song in 132, Steve and Natasha Rogers in 945, that asshole Sherlock and boyfriend in 221, and some undergrad named Peter Parker in 478.  
Castiel had an unfortunate habit of smiting inside the building, Stark blew up the workshop out back weekly, Barton left explosives duct taped all over the place, Xavier woke everyone up with Lensherr’s nightmares, the Doctor left his Police Box in the hallway, Doctor Song occasionally got dragged away by some weird cops, Natasha had an unfortunate habit of sneaking up on people, Sherlock left body parts everywhere and never stopped calling people stupid, but got along reasonably well with the Doctor and Stark, that Watson fellow tried to mediate and failed, and Peter was a snarky brat who irritated pretty much everybody. It was Fury’s own personal Hell on Earth. Literally.  
It was the Hellfire Boarding House, and it was full of freaks. Interesting ones.


	2. Chapter 2

“This is bad. Really, really bad....” Clint worried and fretted, occasionally peering out the window. “Fury is going to kill us.”  
“Not if we fix the problem before he gets back,” Dean pointed out, sliding red-cased rounds into his shot gun.  
“HOW DO WE “FIX” A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE?” Clint shouted, waving his hands around insanely.  
“Cas?” Dean turned to the angel, who shrugged.  
“I have never seen such a thing. It is unlikely I will be able to smite them, as they are already dead and there is no demon possession.”  
“You guys worry too much,” Tony commented mildly from where he lay on his bed, chowing down on his third cheeseburger.  
“This is your fault!” Clint jabbed an accusatory finger at his lover.  
“How’s that?”  
“You were locked up in the shed for days and suddenly there’s a zombie outbreak? How is it NOT your fault?”  
“Calm yo tits!” Dean yelled. “Now, Charles and Erik were in Russia for the week, so that leaves, Sherlock, John, and Peter downstairs. The Docs were visiting Raxacoricofallapatorius, which I think is in Transylvania, so they’re theoretically fine, but we don’t know if Steve and Natasha were home, right?”  
“Right!” Tony piped up helpfully.  
There was a polite knock on the door of the apartment.  
“Can zombies even climb steps?” Dean asked. Cas shrugged again.  
“It’s Steve! From across the hall,” he added, like it could be any other Steve. Clint opened the door. “I was wondering if you knew, but there seems to be a horde of zombies on the front lawn,” he informed them with the apologetic air of someone politely asking his neighbor to turn off the sprinkler because it’s the middle of winter and is that really sensible?  
“Yeah, we knew,” Tony huffed.  
“Fury is going to be pissed,” Natasha commented from behind Tony, who was standing behind Clint; they both jumped a mile into the air, bringing down some plaster from the ugly popcorn ceiling.  
“What’s the game plan?” Clint asked Dean and Castiel, who seemed to be the only people taking this seriously.  
“Shoot them,” Dean replied, pumping the shotgun before sliding the window open. Grotesque groaning flowed into the room and Tony winced.  
“I’ll just go build a bomb,” Tony said, making his way around Natasha to open the supply closet. “How much bleach do you have in your apartment?” he asked Steve.  
“Plenty. I think Natasha uses it to dissolve bodies or something.”  
“Catch!” Clint, who had apparently decided to rummage around in the air ducts tossed a spare shotgun to Castiel, before carefully pulling out a string of hand grenades.  
“You’re a crazy son of a bitch, you know that, Barton?” Dean said, grinning.  
Natasha rolled her eyes, but went to help Steve gather up as many violent chemicals as she could find.  
They were at war.


	3. Chapter 3

Turned out, Tony was the most seriously irritating genius every to be born on any planet ever.  
Not only were the zombies virtually invincible to normal ammo, they also discovered about three hours into the invasion that the zombies could fly. Poorly, but it was still flying.   
Peter Parker had popped out of an air vent at some point during the war and both Clint and Tony had duck-taped him to a chair to “keep him from getting hurt”, and both Sherlock and John were sending makeshift acid bombs out the window while Sherlock routinely complained about the crude use of his vials and beakers and theorised about Castiel’s and Tony’s daddy issues. Castiel was glaring dangerously at Sherlock and Dean stepped in quickly before any counter-productive smiting could occur. No matter how irritating Sherlock was (what a stupid name, Dean thought) he was certainly dealing some damage to those zombies puttering around outside their window by way of self-sustained flight.  
It was like the undead were wearing faulty, invisible jet packs, the way they wobbled about in the air like flies with uneven or damaged wings.  
“This reminds me of this one time in Budapest when-” Natasha started to say as she shot a vial of acid at a zombie, effectively melting its face off.  
“THIS IS NOTHING LIKE BUDAPEST!” Clint shouted from inside the ceiling; he was retrieving... something from the vent system that no one really wanted to think about. There was a lot of banging and a few choice curse words as Clint made his way back to the open grate. He dropped out of the ceiling and pulled a-  
“Is that a bazooka?!” Doctor Watson asked, stunned.  
“Yeah, this one time I was a captive in Mexico with this guy Wade, who’s absolutely insane, and I had to endure this really long and detailed lecture on the merits of duck tape, but I can really see what he was getting at now.” There was indeed duck tape on the bazooka that suggested it had been taped to the side of the vent shaft.  
“I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS!” came a very loud and British shout from the hallway.  
“Oh, shut up, Sweetie. It’s just some zombies. Remember Racofrax 5? That was much worse.”  
“Yeah, but that wasn’t zombies!”  
“You have to admit though that Cybermen are much worse than some flying zombies though,” Doctor Song replied as she knocked politely at the door, despite it being have dissolved from a mishap with the acid.  
“How’d you get in the building?” Steve asked when the Doctor and his Wife had entered.  
“Well, you see-” started the Doctor with a grin.  
“Nevermind that!” Natasha yelled from her position at the window. “Zombies!”  
“Oh, that’s no trouble,” the Doctor said, pulling out some sort of gadget from his tweed jacket and pointing it out the window. He pressed a button and it glowed and started making an odd buzzing sound. He waved it about a bit, muttering, “If I just isolate the signal and reverse the polarity and maybe change the circuits and how about a bit of music?”  
The zombies froze and dropped from the sky like statues and at the same time loud polka music started blaring from all around them.  
“Oops, wrong setting,” the Doctor hurriedly buzzed the polka music away. Everyone except Doctor Song stared at him. Doctor Song was leaning out the window, examining the remains of zombies. “Just some robot zombies,” the Doctor told everyone excitedly. “Isn’t it brilliant? Fantastic! Molto bene!” He whirled around, too hyper to notice the looks everyone was giving him.  
The others stared at the Doctor and his wife. Then they glanced at each other. Dean shrugged, Castiel nodded, Tony gazed longingly at the Doctor’s gizmo, Clint seemed to be contemplating how to restore his caches of weapons, Steve was stunned to the point that he looked like a fish with his mouth opening and closing and nothing coming out, and Natasha just looked annoyed. Sherlock and John were nowhere to be seen. If Dean had to guess, they were having some it’s-the-end-of-the-world-so-let’s-fuck alone time.  
Peter struggled against the duck tape, but Tony and Clint were very thorough, and he looked like a caterpillar cocoon with a tuft of wild hair, two pissed-looking eyes, and a nose.  
“I’m going to take a nap,” Dean said.


End file.
